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Gone

Wendigo

It strolls
through the birches
traces the path
of a bright breeze
and seeks...something

And then it flickers--
dances and teases
a little bit of light
in violet deep eyes
vibrant and vital...

Out of the dapples
the whispers begin
the doubt and dark
fingers sent to catch
that slim little flicker

That promise of peace
when the violence is done
and like a hind from a dog
light feet lift--swiftly away
for there is no satiation

no appeasement for this beast
@Darkkin , I adore your writing. We appreciate you sharing it with us.
 

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